


Aesthetics

by Cheloya



Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-27 07:06:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10804236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheloya/pseuds/Cheloya
Summary: Old, imported. Yumichika does not appreciate his zanpakutou's commentary.





	Aesthetics

Shuuhei doesn't know whether to laugh or to be comforting when Yumi storms home from training in a rage, sweating and not-swearing and looking quite capable of killing someone with his eyes. He's tried both, and neither have netted entirely positive results - four times in the past month, both have required him to make apology-purchases, and perform apology footrubs.

The latter he doesn't mind so much. He doesn't even have many objections to the former, when he thinks about it, but his wages only cover so much, and with Yumi everything is invariably _so much more._

In any case, coaxing Fujikujaku into revealing his secrets tends to have a negative effect on Yumichika's temper, and Shuuhei's always at a bit of a loss as to what to do about it. Usually, while he's trying to decide which way to go, Yumichika's either stormed past him to take a shower, or has clamped his arms around Shuuhei and buried his face in the taller man's chest. Either way, he never seems in the mood to _talk_ about it, and that's probably half the problem.

He makes an attempt, on occasion, and when he thinks about it, those attempts have the same varied results as everything else he's tried - Yumichika has, with identical prompts, alternatively glowered at him so fiercely that he backed up in a hurry, and pulled him down to kiss him so hungrily that any question he might've had was instantly forgotten.

So today, he tries again, when he hears the door slide open with that careful, seething rage just barely held in check. He turns, quirks a smile, and says, "Hey, babe. How'd it go?"

Yumichika is still red in the face, from the exercise or the fury, and his eyes are narrowed. "Perfect," he mutters, crossing his arms and tossing his head. His hair's warm and moist with sweat when Shuuhei runs a hand through it, and the flush is a little more becoming when Yumichika tilts his face upward to meet Shuuhei's. "Mmm," he says, quietly and a little more appreciatively.

"You look hot," Shuuhei tells him, blinking and flushing a little as he realises the double entendre in his words. "Um," he adds, ready to cut off Yumichika's ten dollar version of a lewd remark, but the pretty shinigami just huffs out a sigh and rests his forehead against Shuuhei's collarbone, and that's when Shuuhei knows that there's something really _wrong_. His hands creep up to Yumi's shoulders, kneading them gently, and his lips follow the brightly coloured feathers down to the pucker between Yumi's eyebrows.

"Hey," he murmurs. "What's wrong?"

Yumichika huffs out another sigh, twisting slightly in Shuuhei's arms to slip more comfortably beneath his chin. "Nothing," he replies, unconvincingly, and amends, "Fujikujaku."

Shuuhei, assuming it's the timeframe that's getting to his lover, nuzzles at the petite shinigami's ear. "Well, there's a reason it's captain-level, babe," he says, off-handly. "Makes sense that it should take a while, doesn't it?"

Yumichika blinks at him, non-plussed, and then his lips twitch and he starts laughing. Shuuhei stares. "What? What'd I say?"

Smiling thinly, Yumi shakes his head. "It isn't that it's taking a while," he explains fondly, thumb stroking gently over Shuuhei's tattoo. "It's actually Fujikujaku."

Shuuhei stares. "Huh?"

"Well," Yumichika continues, a little less serenely, "He's just _so_ irritating to work with. Especially when I n-- Nn, would like something from him. He blows it _completely_ out of proportion."

Shuuhei wisely refrains from passing comment, choosing to nod instead. Yumichika leans in closer, head resting neatly against Shuuhei's collar. "Uh huh."

"Not only that, he's constantly making personal remarks," the pretty shinigami sniffs, disdainfully. "Which I cannot refute, at risk of losing his cooperation."

"So you spend the whole day putting up with his crap, huh?" Shuuhei's pretty impressed with his ability to keep a straight face, right now, but he can feel his abdomen tensing up in a bad way, and he knows he's going to laugh pretty soon unless he does something fast.

"Mmm," Yumi agrees, subdued. "It isn't a particularly encouraging training environment. He keeps telling me I'm..." Shuuhei feels the jaw clench against his shoulder, feels Yumichika's shoulders hunch sulkily, and reaches a hand up to play with his lover's hair.

"Well, I don't know if he's got room to talk," Shuuhei muses. Yumichika stiffens again, in a different way - surprise, this time, not anger. He blinks widely up at Shuuhei, and the tattooed shinigami's grin breaks out at that bewildered expression.

"Eh? What do you mean?" Another wide-eyed blink. "You've _seen_ him?"

Shuuhei nods; he'd seen _something_ , anyway, and it sure as hell hadn't been Yumi. "Sure. First time we fought. Clear as day." A little white lie never hurt Yumichika, after all. "He's not that great-lookin', to tell the truth." Although that might've been because he was stealing all Shuuhei's energy. But that was beside the point.

A smile starts in the corner of Yumi's mouth, migrates slowly across his face. "Really?" There's a hint of the usual flirtatiousness in his voice, a hint of the amusement that is his constant travelling companion. Shuuhei gives his waist a squeeze.

"Sure," he says again, tightening his arms just enough to press Yumi just a bit tighter against his stomach, his torso. "You're way more beautiful."

Yumichika glows quietly at him for a second or two before reaching up with both hands and pulling him down for a gentle, lingering kiss. "You're an idiot," he whispers against the corner of Shuuhei's mouth. "Thank you."


End file.
